Shikabane Hime: Madame Red
by Kirbilius Clausius
Summary: Mere familial love could not hope to match what dragged her from the grave. With such boundless mercy flowing over her, shouldn't everyone just accept the consequences of her inflicting it upon them? Takes place between episode 8 and 9 of season 1.
1. Chapter 1

The problem with being a doctor is that you know exactly how bad your situation can get. The Victorian Age had yet to truly solve a problem that had plagued doctors for centuries across all of Europe. Yes, there was no way to stop death. But there was still no way to make certain it had taken place. It was only a matter of time until any doctor was called in to a mausoleum or cemetery to confirm what would then take place. The redone autopsies always showed the originally listed cause of death. But in addition, there would be the suffocated eyes. The fingers were missing nails and flesh. The legs and sometimes the head would show massive bruising.

And that is why when this particular doctor woke up in her coffin, she was not filled with gratitude for another chance at life. She knew she had anywhere between ten and eleven minutes of air for a woman her size trapped in her coffin, maybe fifteen if she managed not to panic. If she did, she had memories to inform her of her fate. The useless scratches and barely dented wood marred with gore and smeared blood were barely a quarter hour away.

Baroness Dr. Angelina "Madame Red" Durless-Barnett felt around in her lightless prison. She felt something that must have been a gown: the only way to guarantee it did not impede her movements was to tuck it into the gown she was buried in.

Buried in.

She was smart. She graduated one of Britian's medical schools and obtained her license despite holding a lady's place in society. She kept ahead of Scotland Yard for months on a murder spree that would go down in history. She would not panic at the thought of a claustrophobic second death in a darkness that would not even hear her screams.

Back to work.

With the 'extra' gown out of the way, she could feel the coffin itself. Damn. It was the finest silk, filled only with goose down except for her head's resting place layered with velvet. She was buried as a noble and not a criminal. The vast majority of caskets can not support the weight of a few feet of dirt piled on top of it. These collapsed in during burial, leaving the body exposed to the bacteria and worms and bugs that lived in the earth. But nobility could afford full coffins that helped preserve the body. The wife of a baron could afford the strength, the durability...the insurance of the finest materials. The only thing that went by the same name as the trap she was encased in was probably the lead armored affairs of the kings and queens of the British Empire. And such a coffin would have been interred at least the recommended six feet down from the top of the casket, if not deeper from better paid grave diggers.

The woman shook her head in resigned dismay.

No!

Back to work.

A swipe of her claws tore the overly comfortable lining from the roof of the small box. She drew back as flat as she could and shoved. The solid, old growth oak pulled every nail binding it to the steel frame. She thrust again and the oak pulled itself from the layer of teak it was bonded to and shattered in a line over her hands into two giant sharp pieces. Her arms lifted the meters of dirt above the shard over her head. The untethered shard was forced into her _final_ resting place. It did not stop there. The blade of broken oak slid directly into her abdomen: exactly where Grelle's scythe tore her entire life from her body and shoved it in front of eyes.

But at least now she had light. The reenactment of her death drove her memories to glow from her left eye. Every detail of the fresh earth that sought to crush her was given to her in otherworldly and exquisite detail.

She grabbed the plank in her belly where her womb would be with her right paw while holding up the tons of dirt still above the other plank with a single straightened limb. Madame Red shoved and it caught into the dirt of her grave: the remainder of her coffin's lid would not cut her again. She wrestled her way to a sitting position, still pressing against the lid. Her female form stood, like an Atlas lifting the earth pressing her down.

But she rose. She spit crumbling dirt and things that were more pests than vermin through her serrated teeth. The plank of coffin lid tore under her claws. The minerals of the earth glimmered in the unholy glow of her one eye. But she did rise. Her inhuman form managed what was medically impossible: find purchase in the crumbled dirt.

And at last she tore free. At last she was exposed to the night. And it smelled like the freedom denied so many others.

Wait. No, it did not. It did not smell like anything. Come to think of it, her coffin did not smell of anything either. Not even when she was surrounded by the crushing dirt did she smell anything.

Madame Red breathed in through her nose. The scents came screaming to her. Turned earth. Well kept grass. The nearly salty granite and its crisper counterpart of marble of the headstones. The faint traces of the 13 people responsible for the maintenance of the cemetery. The whispers of at least 23 different high fashion fragrances worn by her close friends, colleagues, grateful patients and sole surviving family member.

Ciel. There was no time to contemplate why she had not taken a single breath since awakening; despite exerting herself as she never could before her funeral. She could not afford to think of what happened to the grim reaper she turned against the fundamental guiding principals of the universe to wallow in lust and violence with her. The only thing that was important, the only true purpose, was Ciel. She had to be with him. Right now. Why was she waiting?

The dress. She was buried in white. She was buried in red. How could she return to her darling nephew...should be son...in so dismal a color as white. Red was vibrant, intense...unladylike. Once she had stripped off her funeral gown and was dressed in what she should be, her form returned to something very much closer she became so familiar with throughout her life. No more claws or glowing orbs or anything like that. Sure she was deathly cold and probably should remember to breathe again at some point. But she needed to go to Ciel. To ensure...well, everything.

She saw the distant walls of the cemetery as if she was already at them. A scant few steps and a second or two later she was at them. A tremendous leap and she was over the walls. Running like a runaway train or a spooked horse, she tore over the road out of town. She would be near Ciel.

Would that not be wonderful?


	2. Chapter 2

In the servant's quarters, Mey-Rin was dressed for bed, lying in bed and having just read enough of a trashy romance/horror to ensure sweet dreams. Turning to lay on her side, she happened to catch a glimpse out of her window just before she closed her eyes for sleep. This chance glance with her mutated vision was the only warning they had.

In seconds the young woman was running full tilt for the main house. Sure, Mey-Rin was only dressed in the one flimsy layer of cloth of her night gown, including bare feet and free flowing hair. And her glasses still had their night time place on her night stand: she could only follow her memory out of the servant quarters and even the manor was a little too large and close to make out clearly. But she was carrying two revolvers in her hands with little pockets press, twisted then tied into her gown so it fell to her mid-thighs instead of her ankles.

"Sebastian!", the assassin turned maid screamed. "Sebastian!"

"You'll wake the young master.", the butler told her. He seemed to appear from behind her to stop her run with a hand on her shoulder.

Her far sided eyes pleaded with him. "Something's incoming.", she told him. "Something powerful, yes?"

The butler nodded. "That is why I've already awoken the others."

Bardroy ran up in boxer shorts to the two carrying a hunting rifle, modified for military use. Finnian wore pajamas and carried part of a stone pillar from the servant quarters. Sebastian nodded to the veteran. Then he glared at the child. Finnian had the good grace to hold the chunk of rock behind him.

Sebastian pulled a polished pocket watch from his perfectly pressed tuxedo. "I believe that it is time to give this night time interloper the greeting it deserves."

The four ran to the main gate and found Pluto, excited into human form. The hellhound barked at the other side of the gate and the monster her found threatening and unnatural.

"Ah, Sebastian.", Madame Red's corpse told the butler in relief. "I should have known a psychic like you to know to be awake at this hour on this night."

"Please, madam.", he objected. "I am simply one hell of a butler.

"How can I be of service?"

The other servants were a lot less calm about the corpse at their gateway and had every weapon ready to go.

Angelina looked down at her unaccessoried, barefoot, unhatted appearance and nervously tried to straighten her red gown and shake out some of her grave dirt. She smiled a practiced, high-society soiree smile. "I would like to have an audience with my nephew. As you might be able to tell, I think it is very very urgent."

The butler pursed his lips. "Well, firstly, thank you for asking for one instead of making an issue of it."

"Oh, I would, I would, Sebastion.", Madame Red assured. "It's only that I respect your competency at taking care of my nephew. If I thought any way besides asking you politely would get me to Ciel faster, I would."

Sebastian nodded. "Madam also understands that at this hour, the young master has already retired?"

"I'm not waiting, servant.", she told him carefully.

"I see.", the butler acknowledged.

He glanced at the others behind him. While Pluto still snarled and barked wildly at the visitor, the servants still had their weapons at the ready.

"Do not invite her in. Even as it presses against my sensibilities, offer her no hospitality whatsoever.", Sebastian commanded.

"Right!", the three nodded.

Sebastian took off into the night. Minutes later, Earl Ciel Phantomhive was carried softly out to the gate of the estate. When Sebastian arrive, he shook the boy gently. "Young master, we're here."

Ciel woke for the second time that night, the first being to command Sebastian to take him to the gate. The boy slowly and sleepily turned his head toward the gate. Once he saw his beloved aunt, he squirmed from Sebastian's arms.

"Aunt Angie!", the boy cried. "Is it really...?"

She smiled so hard she nearly cried. "Yes, my sweet Ciel. It's the same woman that held you as a baby. Oh my sweet Ciel...You don't know how it thrills me to see you.

"Aunt/"

Ciel spat Sebastian's finger out of his mouth. "What in the world do you think you're doing?"

"You ordered me to protect you.", the butler reminded him. "I cannot stress the importance of not inviting it in."

Madame Red raised an eyebrow. "It's not a scandal to invite a female who is a relative into your home after dark...oh.

"You mean, you're worried that I might be a vampire. And I need an invitation to enter your home. You do realize this gate is the border to the Phantomhive Estate not the mansion proper?"

Sebastian turned back to the corpse standing on the other side of the estate's walls. "Madam, please accept my over zealousness. It is simply prudent to open oneself to all possibilities when confronted by someone who has not taken a breath in the last ten minutes and is as cold as the night air. Especially after her funeral."

"Darn, I thought I was being mindful of that.", Madam Red lamented after taking her second breath that night. "But that doesn't mean I want to drink everyone's blood. Besides..."

She vaulted over the gate. The servants immediately opened fire. Madame Red dodged the shots by vaulting right back over the gate to outside the estate. She did catch some stone shards as Finnian threw the chunk of building he was toting at her through the gate and the wrought iron shredded it.

The corpse brushed off the stone, then raised her hands in a show of surrender. "I think I've just shown that I don't have some supernaturally enforced need for an invitation. I'm asking because you're owed courtesy, Ciel."

Ciel pulled himself together. He stared at his aunt through his untainted eye while holding the other closed since he had not taken up an eye patch in his haste. "What would be your response if I asked you to remain outside the gate until morning?"

"I won't lose you forever, though?", she replied. "You'll come back when the sun rises?"

Ciel frowned. "Perhaps not at just sunrise. But yes, I will return in the morning. And then, together, we will attempt to determine exactly what you are."

"Young master.", Bard interrupted. "Are we really entertaining the idea that she's some sort of vampire? Aren't we just letting Bram Stoker go to our head? Maybe we should be more concerned with getting her to a hospital."

Ciel pointed at Pluto. "The only kept animal on the estate is a hell hound that regularly confuses itself with a werewolf. And it's not like Sebastian isn't accused of something or the next once a week.

"So we will wait until morning, when various people of certain expertise will be purveying their professional establishments. At that point, and not an improper moment prior, we will determine what exactly is happening.

"Sebastian!"

"Yes, my lord?", the butler acknowledged.

"I understand your concerns about having my aunt on the estate proper.", Ciel agreed. "However, please to see to her comfort in every other manner available. That includes any potential danger the sun may pose to her with her new...condition."

"Yes, my lord.", Sebastian agreed.

"That is an order.", Ciel insisted.

"Yes, my lord.", the demon submitted. "Finnian, please carry the young master back to his chambers. Mey-Rin, please keep madam entertained until I can return with appropriate preparations."

"Are you hungry?", Bardroy nervously asked.

"Ma'am.", he quickly added after catching Sebastian's glare.

"No, I assure you.", Angelina told him. "I don't think I even want you thinking anything of the sort."

"Oh.", Bardroy said. "Guess the chef gets to go back to bed."

And with that he slung his rifle over shoulder and made his way back to the servant's quarters.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Ciel walked into the undertaker's workshop. "He's in one of them. Just start checking.", he commanded.

Accompanying him were Mei-Rin, Finnian and Hardroy. The three were dressed in their standard household uniforms instead of their traveling clothes. They still obeyed and started cracking open coffins. Eventually, they found him. Even though Lau and his ever present arm candy, Ran-Mao, did not help in the slightest.

The undertaker yawned loudly. "It's way too early. We're not open yet. Come back later.", he said while waving his hand away. The pale face turned away from them to go back to sleep.

"It's me.", Ciel told him. "I've come for information."

"Oooh!", he said as he wormed his way to a standing position. "Such laughter as you bring me is always worth waking up for. Perhaps, the best way to start off the day!

"Where is your pet...comedian?"

"Please, sir.", Sebastian said as he entered the shop. "I am merely one hell of a butler."

He was preceded by the person he was holding a pitch black parasol over. The person seemed to be dressed in layers of red gowns, long jackets, leather gloves and boots if any thing could be told from what peeked out of the heavy polar explorer's fur parka. It seemed more than adequate protection from the cool yet sunny day.

The undertaker nearly fell across his shop in one step to smell the person in coat. A wide grin broke out on his face. Then the undertaker doubled over with laughter. His tears fought to escape his eyes from laughing so hard. The remainder of the room waited for him to finish...so, maybe this time he could explain the joke.

After he caught his breath, the undertaker tried. "I would have never thought a _shikabane_ would enter a British shop."

Madame Red spoke hurriedly. "Oh no. Did I need an invitation to safely cross the threshold?"

"So the parka and parasol was because you thought you might be a vampire?", the undertaker replied. "At least it isn't your one regret."

Ciel tapped his walking stick. "What is a shi-ka-ba-nay?"

"Shikabane. Shik-a-ba-_ne.", _the undertaker corrected.

"You've seen how Madame Red dressed in life.", Lau said. "The regret that re-animated her couldn't be under dressing. It's probably Ciel that dragged her from the grave."

"Wait a minute.", Hardroy turned on the chinaman. "You knew what kind of creature she was when we were coming here to find out? And kept it to yourself?"

Ran-Mao squeezed Lao's waist a little tighter from under his arm.

"Of course, not.", he assured.

"But you were just talking like you knew everything!", everyone in the room chorused.

"The undertaker said she had one regret.", he replied. "I was just guessing."

Everyone else sweat dropped at his smug expression.

Ciel again tapped his walking stick. "Undertaker, if you will?"

"Of course.", the long coated figure agreed. "A shikabane is a corpse that holds onto one regret from their life so much that they can't lay still in their grave. When they come back, they're singularly focused on that one drive: even if it as simple as bathing or as complex as a mystery embedded in a country's history. Nothing else moves them."

"So the only thing I can think about is caring about Ciel?", Madame Red asked as she started peeling off some of the layers meant to protect a vampire from the sun. "You know, I find it oddly comforting that I my heart won't drift from that thought."

"You would.", the undertaker reminded her.

Finnian stepped closer to Madame Red, now that he was more confident she wasn't going to drink his blood. "So, does that mean she doesn't get any powers?"

"She couldn't have escaped her grave with the capacity she had as mortal.", Sebastian surmised. "No offense."

"None taken.", the shikabane replied. "It was horrible experience."

Mei-RIn had to ask. "The claustaphobia? The darkness? The trapped feeling? The dirt?"

Madame Red looked at her feet. "er...Being separated from Ciel."

The undertaker then spoke. "No, no. Her form has been unhindered by her death. Age, disease, toil, and pain of child birth hold no limitations for her now.

"But the pain rather than the actual child birth was never a problem for you, was it?"

"You shouldn't speak to her like that!", Ciel warned.

"No, it's okay.", Madame Red stated. "It's not like he insulted you, my darling."

The undertaker giggled again. "Oh, shikabane are _hilarious_.

"Anyway, she also has one ability that may be unique to her and her alone."

"Like the claws and teeth and glowing eye I had when I escaped my entombment?", the monster asked. And by 'monster', shikabane is meant. Not say, demon or shinsengumi.

The undertaker shook his head. "No. You are a monster now. The corpse will inevitably show its monstrousness. The glow is just a post script in the life that flashed before your eyes.

"The curse I speak of may be apparent. It may be too subtle to notice quickly. You'll have to be very careful until you figure it out."

Madame Red's corpse shrugged its shoulders. "So maybe I breathe fire. Why would I have to take extra care? At most, I'd just burn down half the country. That's not so bad."

"And if you were to hurt young master with this curse?", the undertaker supposed.

She put her hand to her mouth. "What horrors!"

The shikabane turned to Sebastion. "Sebastian. You have to make sure that my curse doesn't harm Ciel. You must help me!"

Sebastian placed a reassuring hand on her arm. "Madame, I have already pledged to protect the young master with all my being. Rest assured, I will stand between him and whatever you would inflict upon him."

Hardroy raised his voice. "It doesn't concern _anyone_ that she was willing to burn England to the ground even though Ciel brings her to a panic."

Ciel glared at him.

The undertaker lamented. "That really is the issue with Shikabane. Since Lord Phantomhive is her only regret, she'll only act on his behalf. For any of your arguments to have any effect on her, they'll have to be stated in relation to her affection...love...no, attachment to the earl."

Said earl stroked his chin. "Is there anything we would have to feed such a monster? The dead, the living...?"

"No.", the undertaker replied. "She'll walk as long as her regret commands. She'll be able to if her regret is fulfilled or unable to be served, etc. Madame simply won't because she won't care to do anything else."

Just then a young couple came into the shop. The husband kept a stiff upper lip for his wife. Then they noticed the gaggle of people in the small coffin workshop. "Can anyone help us? We...we need a coffin for our...darling Stephy."

"Oh, go bother someone else.", the undertaker commanded. "I'm not open yet."

"Oh.", the couple acknowledged quietly, too lost in their grief to be offended.

Then they noticed the woman in red. "Baroness Barnett?", the wife asked. "But...but I read your obituary."

The husband guided his wife closer.

Madame Red smiled. "Oh, don't worry sir. I got that a lot before...you know. I am Dr. Angelina Durless of the Royal London Hospital. I just look a lot like the, obviously _late_, baroness."

"You mean the charlatans that wouldn't save my daughter from something as common as influenza!", the husband snapped.

Madame Red's smiled disappeared. "You know, sir/"

"Keep up appearances.", Ciel called out.

"Our staff isn't supernatural.", Madame red lamented falsely. "I'm sure we tried the best to save your daughter and make her as comfortable as we could we failed. I am sorry for your loss. You have my and the hospital's condolences."

The couple scoffed and left the funeral parlor.

Ciel Phantomhive smiled. Sebastian understood what was coming and raised an eyebrow intrigued.

"If the only way I allow you to come into contact with me is to serve me and follow my orders exactly, would you do it?", the boy asked his aunt.

The shikabane nodded. "Of course."

"Even if you continued on as a peasant and not even a commoner let alone nobility? Even if I abused you at every turn? No matter how immoral or self-serving or harmful to you my orders are?", he continued.

"The undertaker was right. I just can't bring myself to care about any of that. All I want is you in my lif...well, undeath.", Madame Red told him.

The boy smiled. "Than I am willing to use you to achieve my objectives. Much in the same way I use Sebastian."

The shikabane sped to him so fast Finnian blinked and completely missed it. The undead creature picked the boy up in her arms and swung him around. "I am so happy!", she squealed.

Sebastian held the parasol, parka and other anti-sun protection Madame Red did not need. He may not have exactly known, but he could tell and infer and discern amazingly well. So he began, mentally, to prepare.


End file.
